Familiar
by catastrophic-art
Summary: And despite everything, even as he gave his last breath, all of it seemed familiar to him. Rated for mild swearing and violence.


It was familiar.

So familiar, Hashirama couldn't bear to lose that familiar chakra. He was so close, but it was managing to dodge him no matter how fast he went. Almost as though it was toying with him. Despite being a man of patience, he couldn't stand someone intentionally playing around with him for very long. It grated endlessly on his nerves.

Taking in recognizable smell of the waterfall, alarming him of how close he was to the border, he knew there were only two options remaining: allow the enemy to simply escape, or figure out a way to take it down once and for all. Given his current condition - his body didn't fair well from the battle that was taking place, and was littered with small cuts, bruises, and the occasionally gash or stab wound - he couldn't last for much longer. At least half of his armor was destroyed. On top of that, passing out from exhaustion just across the border of the Sound territory was never a good thing.

He grit his teeth, frustrated. This had gone on long enough. Using a small burst of his own chakra (what little there was left), he pushed forward and sprinted through the trees, nearing the Valley of End. He didn't like being so close to enemy borders without at least another man at his side (especially with the shape he was in at the moment), but the situation - desperately wanting to know who that chakra belonged to - was something he was willing to make an exception on, apparently.

The chakra ceased its movement, just outside the border of the forest that surrounded the waterfall, and Hashirama slowed. It was odd, having it stop right there. It was taunting him, _wanting_ him to come closer. It wanted to be caught. Hashirama would fulfill its final wish. But despite the determined thought, as he emerged from the thick forestry that he himself had created, he stopped altogether. Everything was made clear, yet everything became more confusing all at once.

A stunned silence fell upon him. How was this even possible? How could this have happened? It couldn't, there was no way that the man before him way truly standing before him. That trademark unruly hair - which he found to be far shorter than he remembered - that he'd easily recognize anywhere, the all-knowing smirk that was almost permanently set upon his features when he felt superior (like now, obviously), and of course, the vibrant crimson eyes.

"You seem surprised, Hashirama… Do you not know an old comrade when you see one?" His smirk widened, growing into a menacing grin.

Regaining composure quickly, his expression turned calm, the voice of the Uchiha almost soothing him, in a strange sense. "Anyone would stand in surprise when they see a dead man walking, Madara."

"Ahh, yes, but the dead are merely empty shells of a bigger existence, are they not?"

His eyes narrowed in the slightest. "Don't joke at a time like this."

"And what time would that be, hmm?" A small, choked laugh escaped his throat. "You mean the time that I finally kill you?" He couldn't hold it back; the malicious laughter erupted from his throat as he tossed his head back, clutching at his side and taking in gasping breaths as the laughs turned from overjoyed to maniacal.

"You sound so sure of yourself," he replied coolly, making sure not to lower his defenses whatsoever. Madara was a dangerous man, and despite Hashirama knowing of his way of battle, time had passed. Things had changed. He was different now. "You never let wounds stop you, though. You fought as hard as you could until I'd finally pierced your heart and killed you… or so I thought I did."

Regaining his breath once more, he looked at Hashirama with crazed eyes; he'd been waiting for this opportunity. "That's right, you fool. And I _am_ sure of myself. All this time, and I knew that this had to be the place for where you give you last breath. Do you not recognize it?"

"I do, Madara." Looking around in an almost casual manner, he finally seemed to take in everything around him. Of course, he'd always known where he was, but at the mention of it, he couldn't help but look around, take in the scenery. Scenery that had once been bathed in blood, but now stood with tall trees and wild plants. So long ago, it seemed, that Madara had 'died' here. All of the memories from that battle came flowing back to him. But the most vivid part had to be when the wood penetrated his chest, Madara's eyes were wide with shock: he, the greatest Uchiha, had been defeated by a Senju. Blood had poured from his mouth and chest, sprayed from his mouth as he screamed and cursed, coating his very being in the substance. Again, it felt so long ago… But of course, here he was, standing as though nothing had happened. Hashirama brought himself from his memories again, not exactly knowing how long he'd stood in thought. "It's now become almost painfully clear as to why you brought me here." Madara's eyes narrowed, unappreciative towards the Senju's mocking manner.

"Your condescending attitude will get you nowhere," he growled dangerously. "I'm sick of being looked down upon by you!" Hashirama flinched at the sudden shout, but that didn't stop Madara. "You think you're always better, don't you? You and your fucking clan, all of them think they're so much better than us!" He strode towards Hashirama, stopping just a few feet before him. "Just because you're the Hokage, doesn't mean that your clan is better!"

Hashirama remained silent, taken aback by the rage. He knew Madara could sometimes lose his temper over this subject: he always felt the Senju were trying to suppress them. Even though it wasn't the truth, he could never get it through his head that the Senju wanted to treat them as equals…

"It doesn't matter though," he abruptly said as he returned his gaze to Hashirama, who was far more disturbed by the sudden calm of his manner. "It's in the past, yes? I got everything that I needed then, so let's put that behind us…"

"And yet here we are, standing at the supposed place where I'm going to die."

"No, Hashirama," he said with a low chuckle. Hashirama felt a chill run up his spine. "I don't believe that 'supposed' is the correct term for this."

The movement Hashirama made was as swift as he could make it, but as he sliced at the Uchiha's throat with his kunai, he saw no sense of urgency in his expression as the knife seemed to literally go through him. Was the man in front of him even there? He started to believe that all of this was in his head, that he'd imagined this entire thing… Panic coursed through his veins until he froze entirely, feeling a gloved hand grip his waist. A mere moment passed as Madara took a single step forward, closing the gap between them and plunging a small yet deadly blade into his chest. As always, he had perfect accuracy and managed to push the sharp weapon between his ribs and direct it directly towards, and into, his frantically beating heart.

Pain hadn't even registered in his mind, only astonishment. His mind seemed to only dwell on the question: how did Madara survive the rapid slice to his throat? It _had _passed through his vein, hadn't it! Even as he choked on the blood that erupted into his throat, his eyes remained wide with surprise. He simply couldn't wrap his mind around that. Of course, he told himself, that isn't what he should be focusing on.

Removing the blade from his chest and discarding it without care, Madara guided Hashirama's body down to the ground gently, cradling his neck in one hand while he other arm supported his torso. Hashirama found the gesture honorable in a sense. Just then, his eyes began to fall closed, the lids beginning to feel heavy. Now having him rest upon the dirt, Madara retracted his hands, resorting to simply kneeling next to the Senju's body. The sharingan eyes took in their comrade's form, realizing that time was of the essence. When he spoke, his tone had dropped to nothing more than a murmur, something Hashirama could barely make out: "As you breathe your last, cursed breath… I want you to know something." A soft look seemed to pass the man's face. "I've always admired you, Hashirama." He saw his eyes widen, if only in the slightest. "You'll always be the one man who, though I hate with every ounce of my being, was what I strived to be."

Only a simple nod of acknowledgement is given in reply. It was all he could manage at this point.

Straightening, he let out a breath, as though a burden was lifted, and said, "But now, you damned fool, is the end for you."

The world faded before he could realize what Madara had done to him.

Yet somehow, it all seemed familiar.

A/N:

I was looking through the Naruto data book, and wondered, 'when exactly did Hashirama even die?' I figured it was going to be something dumb, like illness or old age… but nothing as beautiful as this:

_"Hashirama died shortly after the founding of Konoha in one of the many wars that were raging during this revolutionary era, but not before passing on the title of Hokage to Tobirama."_

For once, Kishimoto has done us good.

(And for those that don't fully understand WHY that's good, when it comes to the databook: VAGUE = GOOD)


End file.
